Gale
by Suki59
Summary: Gale's POV of my story, Everdeen. Both tell a new ending to the series and are written for Gale lovers. Please enjoy Everdeen before reading Gale.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I had barely put my three little x's at the end of Everdeen when Gale started whispering in my ear. He had a story to tell too.**

**This is his point of view of the ending I wrote for the series.**

**I hope you like it. I still own none of it.**

I begged Katniss to shoot me as I was pulled further into the tiny, brightly colored apartment. I could see her confusion and wondered if she didn't understand me or simply was conflicted about doing it. I hoped it was the former. I'd always hoped we would do it for each other if that moment ever came. And mine had come.

The irony that I'd given my suicide pill to Peeta flickered at the back of my mind since I had also given him my girl. He would have the life I wanted unless he chose to take the death I'd wanted as well. He had it all.

I'd always heard that right before death, your life flashed before you, and as my captors forced me to my knees, my hands clasped on my head, I learned it was true.

It wasn't so much a sequence of events as a greater picture of life. The weight of the people I loved seemed to be constricting my heart. I felt the presence of my family and thought how hard it would be on my sister. She wasn't even born when our father died, so I was the only kind of father she knew. And my poor mother would have another loss to suffer. I knew my brothers would have each other and didn't fear for them as much. And then there was Katniss. Her hold on my heart was stronger than all the rest, and I regretted that I'd never told her I loved her.

I had tried to tell her the day we said goodbye after that first reaping, but I was taken away before I could finish. I hoped she knew then just as I hoped now, at the very end of my life. Surely she knew just as surely as I knew she loved me.

I hadn't always loved her, of course. At first she was a pain in my side when I didn't need one. I found her in the woods one day inspecting one of my snares. I didn't know her name although she was familiar to me as one of the kids in the Seam. She was just a girl though, and my interests in her gender were for much more mature choices. I liked girls. I loved girls, one in particular. But Katniss was way too young to be of any interest to me in that department.

I was actually going through quite the drama at that time and a young girl following me around while I hunted was the last thing I needed. At fourteen, I already had girl trouble—the kind that should be reserved for men. But sometimes boys in the Seam had to grow up faster than others. I'd learned that lesson the previous year when my father was killed in the mines.

When I lost my father, even though I was thirteen, I was already taller and broader in the shoulders than the other boys in my grade at school, so I looked too old to cry for my daddy, but that's what I did. I tried to be adult about it, but I was devastated.

We had had a big fight the day before he died. I was just being a hormonal teenager and could later see that the fight would have meant very little to him. But at the time, I was haunted by my last words to him—that I wished he had a different job because I was embarrassed to live in the Seam. Of course, later I wished he'd had a different job because his job was what had killed him.

I started hunting regularly after his death, mostly because we needed the food or what I could trade for it, but also to get away from my family. It was tough being so young and having to take on the responsibilities of a man. I resented my family for needing me, and hated myself for resenting them.

I wanted to run away, even at that age, and often fantasized about living in the woods alone, needing no one and having no one who needed me.

Of course, I began to change my mind that year as girls began to hold my interest more than anything else. I decided I didn't want to live in the woods because there were no girls to kiss in the woods. And I didn't dare take any there—it was just too dangerous.

So, I kissed them behind the school, on the slag pile, in the alleys in the Hob—anywhere I could find a little privacy. I didn't want a girlfriend like some of my friends had. I wanted to kiss all the girls. And so I tried my best.

I learned pretty quickly which ones would let you use your tongue, and which ones would let a hand roam a bit over their blouses. It was when I was with such a girl that I first really noticed Lola. She and some of her friends caught me kissing a girl behind the school, and they ran away giggling. But I saw Lola stop and stare a little longer and she gave me a knowing smirk before she took off.

I knew who she was. She was seventeen—a good three years older than I was, and had the body of a woman—not the slight curves of the girls in my grade. Her parents owned the hardware store in town and I traded with them occasionally for the supplies for my snares and traps. Lola had the plumpness of the well-fed and the blonde hair and blue eyes of the merchants in town. I thought she was the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen.

I started hanging around the hardware store like a puppy dog, always eager to get a glimpse of her. And then one day, she took me by the hand down into the cellar when her parents weren't looking and showed me the real difference between a fourteen-year-old and a seventeen-year-old girl. While the other girls had batted my hands away, Lola pressed them into her body willingly. Clothes came off. Bodies touched. She didn't let me do everything. She insisted on it. And I fell in love with her.

Between school, hunting, and trading in the Hob, I really didn't have a lot of free time, but I always seemed to find time to see Lola.

It was during this time that I discovered Katniss in the woods and she started tagging along. I couldn't wait to get rid of her every day so I could try and sneak in a visit with Lola before dark, but sometimes Katniss delayed me and I missed my chance for a trip to the cellar. I knew I should be grateful for Katniss in a way because she taught me a lot about gathering plants for food and medicine and showed me some of her secret places in the woods with rich pickings. But she was also a kid, and I thought of myself as a man by then.

One evening, I hurried her home after our run through the Hob so I could get to Lola. I'd saved a handful of early strawberries to give to Lola, knowing what my reward would be, but when I sneaked down to the cellar, I found Lola in tears.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

She shook her head and wiped her cheeks, saying, "You're not going to like it."

My mind ran through possibilities of things I wouldn't like. She met someone else. Her parents found out about us. She didn't want me any more. I braced myself and said, "Just say it."

She gestured to the basket in my hand and asked, "Are those for me?"

I nodded and handed her the strawberries.

She sat on an old stool and started eating the berries one by one, still crying, until she looked up at me and said, "I'm sorry, Gale, but I'm pregnant."

That was news I hadn't even considered.


	2. Chapter 2

I didn't want to be a father. I didn't want to be a husband.

Of course, I kept my mouth shut about that, and told Lola everything would be okay. But I didn't see how anything could ever be okay again.

I went home and went to bed that night missing my father more than I ever had. I wasn't sure if he would have known what to do, or how he would have reacted to the news, but I knew I couldn't tell my mother. She was struggling to keep her family fed with a baby of her own. How could I tell her that we would be having another one? And it was mine.

At first I was mad at Lola. How could she have let this happen? But then I reminded myself that I was just as responsible as she was, even though I was admittedly in the dark a bit about the cycles of women and how it all worked. I had no one to ask about such things, but then I chastised myself because I should have asked Lola herself.

I wasn't sure if our parents would let us get married. Lola was old enough to decide for herself, but I wasn't, and would need my mother's permission. I knew that some young girls who got pregnant let their parents raise the baby, and wondered if Lola's parents were such people. I couldn't ask my own mother as she already had a baby to feed and certainly didn't need another one. And would Lola even allow that? I really had no idea.

The next day while we were hunting, I watched Katniss and thought how lucky she was to be so young and innocent. She was oblivious to such troubles as unwanted babies. But then I reminded myself that this would be the first year her name would be in the reaping, and I felt a stab to my heart to think of her subjected to such a cruel fate. Twelve was so young, and any tribute that age faced certain death.

I went to Lola's house every chance I could, but kept finding an empty cellar. I knew we needed to talk—to make a decision—several, actually, and I started to wonder if she might be avoiding me. A part of me wished she would just go away. I knew it was childish, but I suddenly regretted all the stolen moments in her cellar and wished we'd never met.

I started looking for her in school. Her classes weren't near mine, but every chance I got, I'd check the parts of the school where the older kids had class. I finally saw her at the end of the day one day, running out the back door. I started running too and caught up to her just as she rounded the corner and headed behind the school. I had frequented this part of the school quite a bit and felt a wave of dread as I turned the corner. She was in the arms of another boy and I felt like I'd been punched in the stomach.

I stopped and watched them kiss and just let out an astonished, "Lola," under my breath.

She looked over at me and the boy stepped towards me, ready for a fight. He was the same height as I was, but clearly much older—maybe even older than Lola.

Lola put her hand on his chest to stop him and said, "It's okay. I'll just be a minute," as she stepped forward, grabbed my arm and took me back around the corner.

I was upset, but determined not to show it. When we stopped and faced each other, I just clinched my jaw, waiting for her to explain and for me to get my emotions under control.

She kind of laughed nervously and said, "I've been looking all over the place for you."

I could see she was lying and hoped I was making her uncomfortable.

"Where've you been?" she asked.

"I've been looking for you," I said and cleared my throat so I wouldn't sound upset.

"Well, you found me!" she said lightly.

I just frowned and wasn't sure what to say next.

"Oh, don't look at me like that, Gale. You don't own me."

I kind of thought I did.

"Roman used to be my boyfriend a long time ago and now he wants me back. Don't be mad."

"Don't be mad," I just repeated stupidly. I was furious. And shocked.

She rolled her eyes and made a little pouty face.

"So, when did this happen?" I asked. I gritted my teeth before I asked the real question I wanted answered. "Could the baby be his?"

Her expression went blank for an instant and then I saw the light come on. "Oh, yeah, that. There's no baby. I started last week. I was going to tell you."

And just like that, I got my life back.

I was happy to be rid of Lola. Grateful to Roman who stole her from me. And determined to never allow myself to be in that predicament again.

For a while—a short while—I had no interest in girls at all. I spent my free time hunting with Katniss and started to appreciate her company more. She wasn't anything like the older girls I knew. She was sweet and genuine and innocent, and for the first time, I appreciated innocence as a quality in girls.

I grew to genuinely like her and got to know her mother and little sister a little better, and enjoyed my time with them as well.

So, on the day of the reaping, I had a new person to worry about. I worried about myself, of course. Even though this was only my third reaping, I had signed up for tesserae at every opportunity, and knew it increased my odds considerably. Katniss had as well, but at twelve, her odds were still better than mine.

I stood and watched Effie Trinket babble on about the Games from the podium and my eyes scoured the crowd of kids. I hoped my friends would be spared and craned my neck to see as many of them as I could.

The girl's name was always picked first, and I looked over and spotted Katniss looking pale and young—like a child—not the confident hunter I'd come to know.

I held my breath for her as the slip of paper was drawn. I could see the worry in her face and wished I could say something to her to make it better, but knew that my own worry would be up next.

I listened for her name and when I heard the words, all that registered was that the name Katniss Everdeen hadn't been called. A hush fell on the crowd as the unlucky girl made her way to the end of her row and stepped into the aisle. And that's when I realized who it was and my heart sank.

Lola was our new girl tribute.


	3. Chapter 3

I felt awful for ever wishing Lola would "just go away." Lola was just going away now, and no matter how mad I had been at her, no one deserved the fate she was facing.

When I watched her being interviewed on TV by that buffoon with the purple hair, my heart broke for her. I could see the fear in her eyes as she tried to make light of her situation. I even thought of Roman and wondered what he must be feeling.

I had never really known any of our tributes personally, but realized that as I grew older, the chances would increase that I'd lose real friends. And, of course, I might die myself. I was so angry that we allowed these games to happen. It was barbaric and cruel, and I was powerless to do anything about it.

That year, when I watched the girl I'd once loved—the woman with whom I'd thought I'd be a parent and maybe even a husband—die with a hatchet buried into her back, a part of me broke. The seed of an unquenchable rage was planted, and I vowed I would do everything—anything I had to—to end the Games and the tyranny they represented.

I became an angry young man, and an unhappy one. Of course, I looked around me and saw very few people in my town that could be called happy.

I went to school, I took care of my family, and I did whatever I had to do to make sure we were all fed. The only time I felt remotely content was when I was hunting with Katniss. I clung to her sweet company, and she came to embody the innocence I'd once possessed and that I wished for all the children of our district—of the whole country.

Years passed. My life became as normal as any boy's. I survived the reapings in spite of signing up for tesserae. I hunted for my family and Katniss's. I kissed the girls in school.

After Lola, I was careful with the girls, having a better grasp of consequences to certain actions. I was still a hormonal teenager, but learned ways for everyone to have fun without worrying about more mouths to feed or having to say goodbye to a lover while she was murdered on TV. I was also careful not to get too close to anyone I couldn't stand to lose.

Katniss became my best friend, my confidant, my partner in the woods. I watched her go from a skinny young girl to a young woman, in awe of her delicate curves and her ignorance of their power over the opposite sex.

I'd occasionally catch myself covering her position while we hunted with a little more care—like a boy protecting a girl. But then I'd remind myself that she was as adept a hunter as I was and needed no chivalrous attentions. She was sixteen—still young, but very capable, and I had trouble defining her in my life as a young woman after seeing her for so many years as a child companion.

We were sitting at Greasy Sae's late one afternoon. The snow had made it impossible to hunt, so we gave up and went to get some hot food into our stomachs. Katniss was sitting cross-legged on the counter, and I noticed how long her legs were and how much I loved the way her boots looked on her when she tucked her pants into them.

Darius was teasing her, tickling her face with the end of her braid, and she looked so lovely laughing at him, the January cold pinking her cheeks.

Then I realized what he was teasing her about—that she should make a trade for one of his kisses, and I felt my smile fade. He would never be good enough to have a kiss from Katniss. He needed to let her braid go as well.

I almost reached over to knock his hand away when I realized that I was jealous.

She giggled and smacked at his hand and I looked at him and wanted to punch him in the face. And then, I wanted to grab her by the hand and run back into the woods with her. Into the quiet of the snow. Where we could be alone and I would fall into a snowbank and pull her to the ground with me and we'd laugh and hold each other and catch snowflakes on our tongues. And then I'd kiss her.

I wanted to kiss Katniss.

Almost immediately, I wanted to kiss no one else. The other girls seemed silly and a waste of time. No one was like Katniss.

Suddenly, hunting was different for me. We still watched each other's backs and enjoyed each other's company and traded in the Hob, and it seemed every day, I watched for the right moment to kiss her—to tell her how I felt.

I thought of how I'd felt about Lola. I was in love with her—or so I'd told myself. But this was nothing like that feeling. That was tangled with guilt and lust and confusion. This was as easy as breathing. There was still lust, but it felt right—normal and wonderful.

Spring came and went, and I still hadn't kissed her. I was so afraid of scaring her away. She seemed so unaware of her own sexuality—her own appeal to men, which was part of what made her so appealing. I wanted to be the one who opened her eyes to the physical pleasure between a boy and a girl. I wanted her to discover that she was a woman while in my arms.

For the first time in a long time, I started to feel completely attached to someone, and remembered how I'd felt when I watched Lola die. I became obsessed with losing Katniss in the same way. I only had one more reaping and then I'd be free and clear, but Katniss had three. Plus she had signed up for tesserae as often as I had.

I couldn't face the possibility of losing her, and so the morning of the reaping, I decided I'd ask her to run away with me. No, I hadn't told her how I felt yet, but surely she knew. It was just so obvious to me, and I couldn't imagine that the thought of us together hadn't crossed her mind.

But when I said it—that we could run away, I saw the look on her face. It was an impossibility. She thought I was crazy. I quickly covered it up by adding that we couldn't of course, because of our brothers and sisters.

Katniss suddenly announced that she never wanted to have kids and I wondered if it was her way of rejecting me. I felt the sting of it, but probed further, saying I wouldn't mind having kids if we lived somewhere else. I thought of how badly I hadn't want to have a baby with Lola, and felt the usual guilty stab of pain thinking that now Lola would never have the chance to have children.

I finally gave up and just told Katniss to forget the whole thing. Clearly, she wasn't open to the idea of running away with me. Maybe I'd been delusional thinking she might return my feelings. I was mad at myself for waiting so long to say something, and now today wasn't the right time to bring it up. Katniss wasn't ready. Why would she run away with someone who had never declared his true feelings to her?

And even if I had told her how I felt, forced a kiss on her, I wanted it to be her choice to be with me. I wanted her to love me not because I could take her away and make sure she was fed every day. I wanted her to want me. To want to kiss me and hold me and make love to me, and I wanted those things to be her idea too, not just things proposed to her by an older boy who had started slobbering all over her since she grew breasts.

Suddenly, nothing I could say or do felt adequate, and my mood soured quickly, making me grumpy company for the rest of the morning.

When I got home, I bathed and shaved and put on my only decent shirt that my mother had pressed for me. As I buttoned it, my eyes stung at the thought of her making sure all the wrinkles were out so her oldest boy would look his best if she had to say goodbye to him for the last time today.

My name was on 42 pieces of paper. There might have been some other poor eighteen-year-olds in the Seam who had that many chances of being chosen, but probably not many. Before we left, I hugged my mother and kissed her forehead, and she smiled up at me through her tears.

I sat through the usual banter on stage, but this time watched our victor fall off the stage because he was too drunk to see straight. I tried to tell myself that this was the last time I'd ever have to be here among the teenagers. But then my eyes found Katniss and I knew I'd always worry for her. And then next year, my brother would be old enough for his first reaping. And this horror would never end. As long as there were teenagers in the world that I loved, this helpless feeling would continue.

I vowed to run away after today—to not botch my proposal to Katniss again. This time, I would do it right and make a real plan—one that included taking our families with us and finding a place to live where people in a far away city couldn't make our children kill each other, and make the rest of us watch it.

I was staring intently at Katniss, waiting for the girl tribute's name to be called. Effie Trinket called out the name—Primrose Everdeen. I watched the shock register on Katniss's face, as if she'd been hit with an arrow to the chest.

She immediately started working her way to the aisle as Prim marched stoically towards the stage. I watched her call out, "I volunteer!" as she pushed Prim behind her and that's when I realized I was also on my way to the stage.

I nearly called out the same thing before catching myself. Boys couldn't volunteer to take the place of girls. We just had to watch dumbly as the girls we loved were taken from us to get hatchets buried into their backs on TV.

As I reached the base of the stage, I just plucked Prim from Katniss's back and held her, kicking and flailing and crying for her sister. I wanted to do the same, but instead, said "Up you go, Catnip," in a voice I didn't recognize as my own, suddenly aware of the eyes of the world on us as we tried not to fall apart.

I turned my back to Katniss and looked for her mother in the crowd, wishing I could run and wrap both her and Prim in my arms and weep while our girl bravely faced the world and her certain demise behind me.

I knew in that instant that my last hope of a happy future was dying—that my last mistake—of not telling Katniss how I felt, of not taking her away—would haunt me the rest of my miserable life. Katniss would surely die at only sixteen years old, and it was all my fault.


	4. Chapter 4

As I watched the man in front of me aim his gun at my head, I had an odd thought that the pain in my neck would soon disappear. All the pain of my life would be washed away in an instant.

I only hoped that Katniss would find her way to President Snow and kill him, ending this war and the oppression we were all fighting.

But my fight was over. My time in this world was at an end. I was about to die in someone's colorful Capitol living room.

I closed my eyes and waited. And then I heard the click.

I opened my eyes and saw the surprise on the face of the man intent on killing me. His gun had malfunctioned. I had a brief thought that mine might have worked for him had it not melted away in Messalla'a hands beneath the city.

The other Peacekeeper stepped forward with a large green glass bowl in his hand. He raised it over his head and as it came down, I felt the instant pain in my head. And then I felt nothing.

I woke to the sound of a woman's voice and thought it was Katniss. I couldn't think of where we were and tried to remember, but my head hurt terribly, and I couldn't focus my thoughts. I tried to speak, but only got out a sort of grunt, and then everything seemed to slip away again and I tried to listen for Katniss, but she was gone.

When I woke again, I was able to open my eyes and I saw my mother's face, smiling with tear-stained cheeks. I wanted to touch her—to ask her why she was crying when clearly she was also happy.

Then I remembered the green bowl, the Peacekeeper, me on my knees while the people I had loved in my life danced through my head, squeezing my heart one last time.

Only, it wasn't the last time. I was alive. And my head hurt.

I was in and out of consciousness, but quite out of it even when I was awake.

Finally, once I was able to speak, I asked, "Katniss?"

"She's fine," my mother said. "The rebellion is over."

"Snow?"

"He's dead. Peeta Mellark killed him."

I knew Katniss wanted to be the one and wondered what had happened. "Where is she?"

"They're both back at home. People are going home, rebuilding the district."

I felt a wave of relief. It was over. She was safe. And with Peeta. I knew he was still a mess when I last saw him, but didn't know how long ago that was. "How long have I been here?"

"A while. Weeks."

"How many?"

"Five. Almost six. You're going to be fine though. You're healing."

"Don't tell her," I said.

I didn't want Katniss to see me and pity me like she had when I'd been whipped and was laid out on her kitchen table.

"She probably knows," she said. "I assume so or I would have told her myself."

And yet she wasn't here. So she either didn't know or didn't care. I thought it more likely that she didn't know. "Well, in case she doesn't, please don't tell her."

She nodded and said, "We'll talk about it later."

But we never really did. As time went by, I knew my decision was the right one. Katniss had been through so much, and regardless of what I felt, she deserved happiness with the man of her own choosing. With me out of the picture, she could be with Peeta.

Along with the rest of the world, I'd seen her kiss Peeta, and I knew she really loved him. She wasn't that good an actress. I knew her better than anyone. And I'd kissed her myself.

I tried not to think of the kisses, but the first time I'd held her in my arms haunted me. Saying goodbye after the first reaping. I'd reached for her and she pressed herself into me and I wanted so badly to protect her, to save her, but I knew I couldn't. I just felt her-really felt her-with every part of me. I tried to cling to the feeling of her, knowing it would likely be the one and only moment I'd have with my arms around her. I'd wanted so badly to hold onto the memory of it at the time and now wished I could get it out of my mind.

I'd always regretted that I hadn't gotten the chance to tell her I loved her as they abruptly ended our good-byes, but now I could see that had she known how I felt, she might not have been open to Peeta's very public declaration of love—his offer that ended up saving them both. If my love had planted even a tiny grain of guilt in her—given her a reason to hesitate when Peeta first took her hand in the chariot, she could have died. And it would have been my fault.

I thought of how before the reaping I'd wanted to be the one who taught her about love between a boy and a girl. That seemed like a million years ago now. Fate had stepped in and given her someone else to teach her that.

They'd saved each other's lives countless times and become the sweethearts of the whole nation. How could I ever compete with that? And why would I if it was what she wanted?

My accidental omission of love at that unbearable parting gave Katniss the freedom to open herself to Peeta, and it had saved her life. Now, once again, my silence could free her to be with him—to find a happy life with a man who loved her, even though it wasn't me.

And so Katniss got the life she deserved back home while I worked on getting better. I fought the morphling withdrawal and for a long time could focus on very little but my own recovery.

I had hideous scars on my face and neck. I was vain enough to feel sorry for myself about that. I knew that the girls wouldn't be lining up for kisses anymore like they had when I was in school. Before I'd fallen in love with Katniss.

But maybe I could still find someone who would want me. A home we could go to—maybe in a new district. I had turned twenty while in my coma, and even though I felt about a thousand years old, twenty was still very young. With no war to fight, I just might go on and have a decent life. One with children. Children who'd never see a reaping.

I had visits from some of my friends. Finnick came. He wanted to tell Katniss, but I made him promise not to.

"She and Peeta need to have a chance at what you and Annie have. I'm in the way," I told him.

"Shouldn't it be Katniss's decision?" he asked.

"You've seen them together." Everyone had. "Don't you think she's decided?"

He didn't argue with me, and I wondered what he might have seen that I hadn't.

Haymitch was a little harder to convince, but I finally did. He'd spent time with the two of them at home and said he thought it was completely safe for her to be around Peeta now. That was really what I needed to know—the final piece of the puzzle for me. She'd be safe. And have a real chance at happiness.

I thought of her all the time in spite of my resolve to move on. I knew I was getting stronger both physically and emotionally.

I convinced myself that I could go out and start a new life. Meet someone new. Find good in the world.

But of course, that all changed the moment she walked in my door and I started crying like a baby. I didn't want a new life. A new girl. I wanted Katniss. I was hers and she was mine. And nothing would ever change that


	5. Chapter 5

Peeta Mellark was possibly the nicest guy in the world. When we showed up in District 12, he moved into Haymitch's house so my mother, brothers, sister and I could have a comfortable place to stay. We had no money, of course. We had nothing, like many families returning home, and yet our cupboards were always full of food.

I walked over to Haymitch's one night and thanked Peeta, and he said, "It's the least I could do. I heard you were the first to volunteer to come and get me after the hijacking. I owe you my life."

We shook hands and I forced my ego to accept his generosity until I was well enough to work again and take care of my own family.

As soon as I was able, I started helping in town with the rebuilding. Yes, I needed to make money, but how could I let others give their time while I didn't help? I didn't know it at the time, but people had already started working on our house. Some were old friends and neighbors and some were strangers. Slowly but surely, we got our lives back—our homes, our purpose, our dignity.

And I had Katniss. We spent every day together in town, working side by side. And our families ate together every night. She and I would often go for walks after dinner, and those walks always included stolen kisses and hands held and whispered promises. I was happy. And she seemed to be as well.

The agony of watching and waiting for her to die on TV every night seemed like a distant nightmare. While the world had watched and hoped for two young lovers to survive together, I'd been tormented by the shame of jealousy—knowing that his love could save her, but still selfishly wishing she didn't return it.

The alternative, of course, would be her death. As awful as it was to see them together, I knew I'd do anything—even give her away—to know she'd still walk this earth. I couldn't bear the thought of her loss—of my life with only the memory of her.

I was thankful every day that that torture was behind me. And that hope was in my future.

I spoke to her mother alone one night and told her of my intentions and she hugged and kissed me. She also cried a little when she told me she loved me like a son.

I disappeared on a few afternoons and built a little nest for me and Katniss at the lake house.

One night on our walk, Katniss said, "Can I ask where you've been going lately? Should I be worried?"

I didn't like keeping secrets from her and never wanted to worry her, so I just said, "Girls with birthdays coming up shouldn't ask so many questions," and that shut her up.

On her eighteenth birthday, I had asked her to pack a backpack for an overnight trip and I picked her up in the afternoon.

We started walking towards the meadow, hand in hand, and she asked, "Are we going to the lake?"

"Yeah," I said.

I watched her actually blush as she said, "And our mothers know? Gale, they'll … you know … _know_."

I laughed and answered, "You're eighteen. What can they say?"

She just covered her mouth with her hand and grinned.

When we got to the house, she was nervous. I took her inside and she saw the bed. I had covered it with a soft blanket and dried flowers.

She turned and ran outside and I followed her, catching her hand and turning her to me as we stopped.

"It's okay," I said. "If you're not ready …."

She searched my face, and I was aware of her eyes following my scar. She reached up and kissed the end of it on my cheek and whispered, "I am ready."

It was nothing like I'd ever experienced, and it was everything I'd ever hoped for. It was tender and slow and then urgent and sweet. We traced every scar on each other's bodies with kisses and told each other we loved each other over and over.

As the light faded, we lit candles and ate the food we'd brought and laughed and talked without a care in the world.

When the birds stopped singing and the insects heralded the start of our night together, I cradled her in my arms and said, "I don't have money for a ring."

Her face went still, and I wondered if I had rushed her.

I waited for an answer for a long time and watched her eyes fill with tears.

"What is it?" I asked. Should I have waited?

"Yes," she whispered and the tears spilled over. "My answer's yes."

I kissed her and crushed her to me, and first told her how much I loved her and then I showed her.

That was the beginning of our life together, and the end of my wondering what my future held. It held Katniss and all the joy she put in my heart.

I finally forgave myself for failing her, for not stealing away with her into the woods that day of her first reaping.

I had watched her find her way in a world that was determined to ruin her, and she had come out in the end the bravest, strongest person I knew. Yes, she had changed, but she was still mine.

And I'd always be hers.

XXX

**A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who read, reviewed, alerted and favorited this story as well as Everdeen. As much as I adore these characters together, it's even better to share my adoration with friends, both old and new.**

**I'm not sure if or when I'll revisit these two. Of course, you know I always say that and then often I wind up writing more. Please let me know if there's anything in particular you'd like to see regarding this story. Your ideas are often much better than mine, and these stories are for you, after all. And something tells me you won't have to twist my arm to get me alone with Gale again to ask him a few questions.**


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